change history yesterday

chapter 14 - news, more news, and debates

In recent reports, there have been a superfluity of plebeian attacks, rapes and palace infiltrations. Still with chaos at an ever high, we have received little to no word from government officials. Aside from the successful, experimental use of the G-shot a few days ago, the New World Order has been sparse with information. The villages of our nation are in complete turmoil as we all anticipate their next actions. Aero and Auguste of Nephraim have yet to make a statement regarding Charlie's condition, but we all have one question left to be answered: where is President Malcolm Bouchard?

I hand the spotlight to newscaster Jephrey White whom is with a civilian of the beloved division of Shankrai, for a more personal account of recent events.

Timothy, our women! Our produce! And now even our children have fallen victim to these savages for long enough!

It's about time Our New World order put a stop to this. The repeated violation of our rights and everything we have worked hard for, especially in recent years, is an abomination to aristocracy and the like everywhere.

What are they doing to remedy this? Absolutely nothing!

As a hardworking member of the upper echelon, I deserve more than this. My wife, my two year old daughter, deserve better. If immediate action upon these animals is not taken soon, I'm afraid we'll have to take matters into our own hands!

Yeah, several within a large group of men chant in unison behind the television screen. The news reporter's words are drowned out by the incessant, loud chanting of the angry men.

Eradicate the weak! Eradicate the weak! Eradicate the weak!

The news channel cuts out.

"My dear, the news is so sensational!"

"Yeah, but the radio gives it more space!"

"What I wouldn't give to be a fly on those presidential walls!" 

"I've never seen anything like it, Eunice," Lady Agatha, Aero's mom, exasperates in her high, feeble voice. "President Malcolm has flown the coop! And for the first time in history, it's become impossible to get in contact with our world leaders." Several of the woman sitting in front of the black television screen gasp as they dine on the pastries and tea set before them. 

"They ought to be ashamed of themselves, hiding behind marble walls and diamond encrusted palaces whilst the rest of us are left at the whim of these beasts!" one of Lady Agatha's playmate's chimes in over-dramatically. I roll my eyes at their gossip but stay quiet. Lady Agatha has her hair pinned up in its usual streaked white bun today. Her spectacles sit right at the edge of the bridge of her nose and her polished pearls sit evenly across her weak neck. I roll my eyes, again, as all of the women in the room comfort her by playing into her hyperbolic perception of recent events. 

The kettle is hot to touch as I fill the older womens' empty glass cups. One of the women sitting around the circle table shoots me a look of utter disgust when my hand brushes up against her own. I mutter an apology and quickly move on to the next. Her hate for me, much like everyone else's, is rooted in who I am. It's no surprise to me that my presence is unwanted by everyone in this room. However, in Aero's obnoxious words, 'If you've got any sense, you'd do your best to make my mother feel welcomed here. Her words carry a lot of weight with me.' So, here I am. At the beck and call of gods and monsters. Knitting and canasta fills the better part of their day, so I always make sure to offer my services at the latter part during a time that I like to call 'gossip hour'.

Every day, right after the evening news, a small group of the older woman's friends relocate to this room for tea, crackers, and all of Nephraim's latest chat. Calling them her friends is more of a courtesy than anything else. They all talk about one another when one isn't around. For the most part, the women's chatter is as boring as paint drying, but with recent events abrew, I've taken interest in a gossip or two. When my ears chime back into the conversation, I'm lost for a moment as I try to puzzle the parts I missed. 

"I wouldn't be so hasty to sell the senator short, Agatha. He's exactly the type of leader Nephraim needs right now, even with his recent disappearance. I think it goes without saying there's only one person we can fairly blame for that," one of the ladies by the name of Janice interjects with her hot cup of tea between both of her hands.

She makes it a point to glare over at me, leading the others to do the same and I shade with embarrassment. I cast my head down in shame, but continue to listen and finish my round about the large breakfast table. I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the empty platters beside me and my hair is still covered by my hat. I look bizarre but I look normal. 

"I'm sure he'll be back soon with a reasonable explanation. . . who knows, he could make a come back with the answer to all of our problems," another woman named Sue chimes in for the first time since all of the ladies took to their seats this morning. Her voice is more somber and timid than the others. Her role of Switzerland is fitting to her personality, from what I can make of it. 

"President Malcolm Bouchard is the true culprit in this mayhem," Janice exclaims. "He's been completely M.I.A since the riots began: coward!"

She brings the cup to her mouth momentarily before her nose wrinkles and she flinches from the heat. I snicker silently, but not silent enough as I receive a death glare from her.

All of the women mutter small agreements monotonously and take a moment to sip from their glass cups and to finish the last bites of their loaves of sweetened bread. I look back over at Lady Agatha to see that her plate is now completely empty and begin to make make another round.

As quickly as possible, I gather old cups of tea and other dirty dishes.

"Anyway, I spoke to senator Holm last time he was here. I guess you could say he and I hit it off pretty well," she boasts flirtatiously and I fight the urge to release this morning's breakfast.

She stops, looking over at me, and then leans in closer to the center of the table for a failed whisper: a courtesy to let me know that I should stop listening.

"Big things are happening within capital walls. . .," she whispers. I can hear her just as clearly as I could when she was using her outside voice. She straightens out her long dress and adjusts her bosom before speaking again. "-- as. . . we. . . speak."

"Look high in the skies for this vaccine is but only a small part in a grander scheme that's supposed to take effect in the coming weeks," she gossips with certainty and gracelessly, I pour too much liquid into the lady's cup beside me. I blush furiously, apologize, and begin to clean up the mess. 

She shoots me a hateful look but doesn't reprimand me; she, like the rest of us, is too entranced with Lady Agatha's revelation.  "-- but you didn't hear that from me."